Say its Not a Dream
by Charisma Enigma
Summary: Based on a dream I had shortly after I became interesting in the sport. After a car accident, Ava is left stranded. Finding an arena, she thinks shes found a place to stay for the night, but she's found so much more. Hardy Boyz, Cena and many others
1. Chapter 1: The Dream

Disclaimer: I own nothing except my OC, Ava. All wrestlers, events, and personalities are property of WWE. Damn...

Summary: Based on a dream I had shortly after I became interested in wrestling. After a car accident Ava is stranded in the city. Finding an arena, she thinks she's found a place to sleep for the night.

But she got more than she bargained for.

Chapter One: The Dream

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The rain had been lightly tapping on the silver Neon for hours as it sped along I-95. Ava hadn't seen it yet, she'd been asleep since they left for this "suprise summer road trip." With no particular destination in mind, Tammy and her new friend, Lisa, packed a week's worth of clothes, grabbed their daughters and hit the highway.

Not caring much for her fellow passengers, nor the endless rows of trees along the interstate, Ava resorted to her old refuge - her mind. As always, she dreamed. But this time was odd. Her dreams weren't coming in clearly. It was almost like flipping through satellite channels in the middle of a rainstorm.

When the pictures cleared she was in Lisa's car traveling down a New England highway. Ahead a sign read: "EXIT 8" with a McDonald's and Exon logo underneath. She could barely read it through the sheets of rain pouring down on the Neon. A bolt of lightning flashed inches away from the hood followed by a roar of thunder seconds later.

Lisa was driving too fast, which was so unlike her. She never even put the keys in the ignition until everyone's seatbelt was fastened. She eased on the brake but nothing happened. The cables had let go. She turned on the next exit, circling a gas station. It was no use. She entered the highway again, driving on the shoulder.

Through the rain came the headlights of an 18-wheeler. Its front tire squealed, trying to find traction on the slick asphalt. It started to hydroplane, crashing headfirst into the small silver Neon...

Ava opened her eyes, seeing nothing but the faint gray outline of the front seats. She rubbed her eyes, bringing everything into focus except what was beyond the window. The rain was too heavy to see anything past a little more than an arm's length. Not far away she caught the unmistakable flash of lightning.

"Lisa, pull over. Please." Ava begged.

"Well good morning little back-seat driver! What's the matter, thirst? Need to use the bathroom?" Ava could practically count the perfectly white teeth smiling back at her in the rear-view mirror.

"Uh, yeah. Hit the next exit. Number..."Ava squinted, trying to read the next road sign. "Eight." Slowly, a stone dropped in her stomach.

Lisa took the turn too sharp, too fast. "Darn," she muttered under her breath. She pressed the brake to the floor, but the Neon didn't respond. Turning into the nearest parking lot, she tried slamming the brake to no avail.

"What's wrong?" Tammy asked, not that concerned.

"Oh, probably wet brake lines."\par

Ava froze in her seat, thinking back to the dream. Lisa pulled back into traffic for a few seconds before turning onto the shoulder. Ava knew she had one shot. Climbing over her mother's lap, she wedged herself between the two front seats. With one quick motion she whipped the car into park.

"What the hell Ava?"

"Didn't you see?" Ava threw her hands up, emphasizing her point. "The brakes, the exit, next the truck! We were going to die!"

Lisa opened her mouth to quiet Ava's fears, but had another idea. "Well Ms. Mechanic, you tell us what's wrong with my car." Unlocking the door, she threw it open just in time or it to be wrenched from the car by a speeding 18-wheeler.

The tow truck came about a half-hour later taking not only the car, but Lisa and her daughter as well. Tammy had called her boyfriend who was driving down from Albany to pick her up.

"This wouldn't have happened if you hadn't of pulled your shit." Tammy, always quick to accuse. "You completely stripped the gears and cost her hundreds. What were you thinking?" Her volume told Ava she didn't care if the whole convienience store knew about it.

They argued back and forth for the better part of an hour before Billy, Tammy's boyfriend, pulled up in his navy Dodge Ram. Tammy immediately hopped in the passenger seat. Frustrated, Ava grabbed the door handle only to find it locked.

"Why don't you call Alex and have him pick you up - unless you don't trust autos anymore." With that, they sped off leaving Ava behind. Ava didn't even care to mention that Alex had left her two weeks ago.

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A/N: Sorry, no wrestlers yet! But I promise there will be in the next chapter. This is mainly set-up. This follows my dream almost exactly, except it played out more like a religious movie thing with an omnipotent source sending information to Lisa...so I just made that into Ava's dream.


	2. Chapter 2: Confronting a Stranger

Disclaimer: I own nothing WWE related. Not even lil HornSwaggle...

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Ava's POV:

I don't know how long I walked. My legs ached and my clothes were soaked. Soon enough the trees that lined the road were replaced by buildings and chain restaurants. The only hotels I saw were five-star shindigs that would cost me at least a months worth's of tips for a one-night stay. All my wallet contained was some discount cards, the "emergency" credit card my mom had maxed out months ago, and a twenty.

The city let out into a small park filled with carefully tended gardens and benches dedicated in memory of Mr. and Ms. 6-figure income. And in the center stood an arena that could probably seat thousands.

I searched the building for any unlocked doors - no luck. Frustrated, I slammed my fist into the concrete exterior. Then it hit me - if there was a show or a game tonight at least one door had to be unlocked for the tech crew.

It took me a half-hour, but I found one. I snuck in as quietly as I could, considering the door was in well need of some WD-40. There were theatre-style seats, each level slightly higher than the first. But most peculiar was a cage of exotic birds in the middle of the otherwise empty arena floor.

I took a few steps closer to get a better look at them. Their feathers were the most vibrant of colors ranging from a stunning gold to deep, royal purples. The smallest but fiercest one of the group was no bigger than my fist.

Being so enthralled with the birds, I never heard the footsteps in the back row of seats. It took a sharp yell to snap me out of my trance.

"Hey! You can't be in here. Show's not until tomorrow night."

Now, if I'd been stranded under better circumstances, I'd probably tried to explain my situation. But with a major headache and a sore fist, I wasn't in the best of moods. I spun on my heels to size this guy up.

Making note of his lack of uniform, I guessed he wasn't with security. In fact, he wore a plain black t-shirt, black-and-green cargo pants, and black and green armbands. His hair was a wild shade of blonde - almost like he had dyed it red, changed his mind, and dyed it back blonde without stripping it. I doubted that style would fly with management.

"I'm not here for a show. I'm here to get out of the rain. But I'm dry now, so I'm leaving." Obviously, he saw through my lie. I tried to clench a fist, but my muscles were too stiff. The best I could manage was a half-claw.

"Right." He paused, looking me over. "How long have you been out there?"

I snorted. "Long enough."

To my suprise and displeasure, he chuckled. "Alright, well,...I'm probably going to get shit for this, but you look too young to be out on the streets-"

I stopped him mid sentence. "Look, I'm not a bum or some street-walking crack-whore. My mother took off with her boyfriend and left me stranded. I'll find a hotel for the night and catch a bus out of here tomorrow." I locked eyes with him, trying to force him to back off first. He didn't budge. Instead, he seemed to be weighting something in his mind. "What?"

He gave a little half-smile. "I'm trying to figure out if you're a Kennedy fan, or just don't know who the hell I am."

It was my turn to smirk. "Obviously you're some athlete with and over-inflated ego who thinks he has to play the bleeding heart."

"Ok, retract the claws." His eyes traveled down the length of my right arm and stopped at my bleeding hand. "Damn. I don't know who got it worse - you or the wall."

My knuckles were bleeding profusely. "Shit." I muttered, grabbing for my shirt. With lightning-fast reflexes he reached out and grabbed my hand. Instictively, I swung with my left. He ducked.

Without missing a beat he said: "No need to make laundry." He reached into his left side pocket with is free hand and pulled out a roll of white gauze. "Never know when you'll need this in the business." I let him bandage my hand without argument.

"What is 'the business' exactly?"

The blonde raised his eyebrows slightly, then lowered them. "Well, your story checks out. You're obviously not from around here. Its wrestling."

Nervously, I laughed. "My ex is crazy over wrestling. Never took me out on a Monday night. I watched a few matches, but I was never a fanatic." He ripped the gauze with his teeth and tucked the end piece in.

"And you have no idea who I am?" He looked up for the first time since grabbing my hand.

"Frankly, no." I replied.

"Interesting." He looked to both sides, seeing if anyone was coming. "Stay here. I know a guy who could help you out." Tucking the gauze back in his pocket, he walked towards the door. Casually, he leaned his back into the door to open it. "If you can manage it, sneak back here around two. This door is never locked." And then he was gone.

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A/N: A lot has changed from the dream to the story. It was actually a cage or monkeys, but birds fit better. I wasn't this bitchy, I really just wanted help. I never punched a wall, but its something I would do in the situation. And I extended the dialogue a bit.


	3. Chapter 3: 2am

Disclaimer: I DON'T own anything from this story except for Ava. :( Trust me, I searched EBay and everything...

Settling down into one of the first row sets, I closed my eyes. I wasn't tired. In fact, I felt like I could walk another five miles. I never got a chance to get comfortable though. A man in cooking attire entered from the same door the blonde exited from.

This man was blonde as well, though not as tall as the other. His walk was cocky, like he was God's gift to this world. I knew I wasn't going to like this man, but it wasn't hard to tell he sure as hell liked me.

"Hey there stranger. Heard you needed a place to stay for the night." He winked, attempting a grin. It looked more like he had a stroke. "Name's Allen," he said, offering his hand.

"Ava. Uh, nice meeting you." Lie number two for the day

"Come on. Let's get you on the ship and I'll get you warm." Oh dear Lord, I didn't want to experience his "warming techniques." Wait, did he say "ship?"

Surely enough, he lead me back out of the arena. Gray clouds still hung in the sky but it had stopped raining. I made sure to avoid any large puddles fearing he'd actually remove the white chef's coat and lay it over a puddle. A few minutes later we arrived at the harbor. Docked in front was a small but opulent cruise ship.

"Beautiful, ain't it?" I'd managed to avoid both eye contact and small talk so far. Leave it to Casanova to break that winning streak. " Its the champion's prize - a week-long cruise to Jamaica."

I let him ramble on awhile, nodding and laughing at appropriate places. I was regretting calling the other blonde an egotist. Allen surely took the cake on that one. He led me up the ramp, through the crew passageways and into the galley.

"This is where I work." Allen made a grand gesture toward the countertops and metal racks full of spices. "If you need anything - anything at all - you know where to find me," he winked. Ugh. Back through the passageways, we walked to his living quarters. It was definitely a bachelor's room. White walls, generic bed cover. Flip open any Holiday Inn brochure and you'd see a room just like it.

After more small talk and unrequited flirtations I somehow convinced him I could NOT wear just his white see-through chef's coat while my clothes dried. It took me even longer to cajole him into going back to the galley. When I was sure there were no hidden cameras in the bathroom I disrobed and took a long hot shower.

My clothes were still a bit damp when I dried off, but I didn't care. I grabbed the remote and switched on Comedy Central. South Park marathon - sweet! 4 hours later and Allen still hadn't come back! What luck. But I was restless. I decided to go exploring.

The pool was drained, most of the rooms were locked, and overall the whole ship was pretty boring. I guess it would be more lively when it was out at sea. But I was bored now...

I checked my watch: 1:45am. Wow, was it really that late? I thought about what the blonde had said. Would he really be in the arena at this hour? Nah, he was probably just pulling my leg. But, it wouldn't hurt to go back. At least the birds would be there. I might be able to teach that parrot to say: "Respect My Authoritay!"

I didn't see him there. I let out a sigh, wishing for some company. Well, at least I could have somewhat of a conversation with the parrot. "Alright Polly, time for an English lesson."

"If you're going to teach them to curse it doesn't work. I tried." Entering from a side door was the blonde stranger.

A/N: David Spade was the chef in my dream, lol. Really awkward. Pretty much like the dream except I had this tinted monocle that gave me directions around the ship. A little too sci-fi for me. Please review!


	4. Chapter 4: The Name Game

Disclaimer: (checks shoes) Nope, still don't own anything from this story. Just my OC Ava. Check WWE.

What I really wanted to do was hit him. But, I weighed it over in my mind just how much the industry would sue my ass for it. Better leave his eyes the color they are. Which was...what, green? Brown? It was hard to make out in just the tech lights.

"Nah, maybe some french. Eh, alloutte?" I turned to the parrot who cooed softly.

The blonde rustled around in his pocket, finally pulling out a bag of unsalted peanuts. He shelled one and tossed it in the cage to a frenzy of feathers. "How about teaching him your name, I'm sure he's not the only one interested." He rolled the top of bag and put it back in his pocket. Cockily, he plopped down on the concrete next to the cage, cross-legged. "Well?"

I rubbed my eyes, just now feeling the exhaustion of my hike. "Ya know, they can shell the peanuts themselves. Talons work quite well at that." I attempted my claw again, fingers loosening up slightly but not fully. "My name isn't important, and neither is yours, actually. I'm outta here soon. As soon as I get some cash." The last part I murmured.

He cupped his hand behind his ear. "Hmm, didn't catch your name. One more time." He bounced, each time scooting closer to my feet. My lips remained shut as I pretended to be absolutely fascinated with the birds' eating habits. After a few seconds, he gave up the ear gig and sighed. Leaning back so only his knees were in the air he let out a few deep breaths. Suddenly, he rocked back and lept to his feet. "Ok, this is how it works," he said, extending his hand. "Since neither of us know one another we introduce ourselves like: 'Hi, my name is So and So." He leaned slightly to his left and switched into falsetto. "Now you say: 'Nice to meet you, I'm So and So!' See? Not very hard. Just give me your name and I swear I'll leave."

I wasn't going to give in, not after I'd nearly gotten lost on the ship. And the company of Allen was the last thing I wanted right now. "Nah, I want yours first." I circled him, looking for any clues to his identity. "You have a slight Southern accent, so I'm guessing your name is either Billy-Bob, Cleatus, or Phineaus."

He gave an enthusiastic laugh. "Ok, I'll play the game. Yes, I'm from the South. No, none of those are my name. Hmm..." He stroked the intricately shaved hairs on his chin. "You said you know French, so maybe your name is Michelle or Chantal. Am I right?"

"Not even close." I took a seat next to him. "I studied French for four agonizing years - honors classes. I'm from Massachusetts, but I am NOT a Mass-hole."

We sat staring at each other, each trying to deduce the others name by any means necessary. He broke first, finally standing. "Ok, I'll give you a clue." Much to the annoyance of the birds, he began climbing the cage. "I'll give you one of my nicknames." He called when he reached the top. With two fingers he pointed up, making a gun with his hand he motioned toward the ceiling.

"Up! Ceiling! Roof! Crazy guy on cage!" I threw out anything that came to mind. He shook his head and mimed smoking a joint. "Oh!" I exclaimed. "High!" He nodded approvingly. He then motioned toward the birds then extended his arms. "Um, wings! Bird! Fly!" He nodded and jumped down, landing in a crouch. I put it together. "High Flyer?"

"Well, its not really a nickname. Its more of a style. Heard of any?" I shook my head. He shifted his weight, dropping his head into his hand. "Look, just tell me who you are. Please?"

He was aggravated, but I was having fun. "Or what? You'll power-bomb me?" I batted my eyelashes, horribly trying to play a seductress. He just shook his head and made toward the door. But he didn't leave, instead he made a b-line for me at full sprint. At the last possible second I dove belly-to-pavement under his legs. But he was faster, he grabbed my right leg. Stepping over my body, he turned his back to me. I recognized this move - the only one my ex had taught me.

I knew I had to make a move or I'd be in a world of pain. Bending my leg, I kicked him in the small of the back. He stumbled and fell flat on his face. As I got up, he rolled over onto his back. But before he could stretch it out I pounced. Pinning both his hands under my knees and applying little pressure I held him in a modified five-point restraint.

"Ok, word to the wise: Don't mess with a former nurse trained to deal with unruly patients." He just stared up at me for a few seconds, shocked.

"Jeff." He muttered. "Jeff Hardy. Can you let me up now?"

I stood up and extended my hand to help him up. "Ava. Last name's not important. Nice to know you."

A/N: Ok, the "game" never really happened in the dream. I just thought it made things interesting. I'm not a nurse but I have a younger family member who has aggression issues. I was taught different restraints used on mental patients.

In the dream, he gave me a rose after we talked. But, its kinda cheesy...


	5. Chapter 5: Backstage Pass

Disclaimer: Nope, don't own it. Vince does. But Ava's mine.

Both of us recovering, he handed me a spare bag of peanuts. I was starving and gulped them down in minutes. I knew I'd done something to his back, though he was trying to mask it with bravado. I reached over and rubbed his left shoulder. "Sorry, but you really shouldn't have come after me."

"Well its not like I had a choice. I was sick of thinking of you as the girl-off-the-streets. A name is nice to know." I pulled my hand back to check my watch - it was nearly 3 am.

"Hey, don't you have a show later tonight?" I asked.

"Oh yeah. Eh, I'm not worried about it. But you, Ava. Where the hell did you learn those techniques?"

I thought back to my last fight nearly three years ago. Some high school drama with another girl. Technically, an ex of my boyfriend at the time accusing me of taking him away from her. He left me for her a month later telling me it was just a rebound thing. But at least I got the pleasure of seeing them both walk into Calculus class with matching black eyes.

"I've been in fights since I was in kindergarten. I was the youngest kid ever suspended from my school. Through elementary school - you know how guys like to snap bra straps? Well I tried to snap their necks. Highschool, well, there was always some girl saying something. Its really nothing though. I'm more deadly with my words."

He mulled something over for a minute before jumping to his feet. "Ok. That's really good to know." He fished around in his pockets again and pulled out a ticket to the show. "Watch and take notes. Then..." He reached into his pocket again searching for something. I wondered if he was that kind of guy who kept every receipt and every scrap note in his pockets. I'd hate to do his laundry. "Come backstage." He smiled, passing me a laminated pass attached to a blue lanyard. "K? Good. Well, 'Night Ava."

He walked away, leaving me with the lanyard in my lap.

I didn't sleep well in the cot I ordered brought to Allen's quarters, but I'll be damned if I had to crawl in bed with him. I dragged myself up for a late brunch cooked by Casanova himself, accompanied by a cocktail napkin with his personal cell phone number scribbled across it.

I passed time by walking the decks and exploring the rooms. The weather was beautiful, not a cloud in sight. I hoped it was a good omen for Jeff.

That night I returned to the arena, entering this time through the front glass doors. The tickets placed me right behind the barricade on the right side of the superstar's entrance ramp. I watched four matches before I heard this strange digitally screwed entrance music play. Dear God, it sounded like a dying elephant. And then he entered.

He wore a black T-shirt with a fancy purple 'H', black pants and matching purple and black arm-warmers. His hair was dyed red again with blonde streaks. He began what I could only assume was a typical yet bizarre dance before jogging down the ramp. He touched every fan's hand on his way to the ring until he got to me. He stopped, smiled and did a shortened replay of he dance, at the end, pointing at me.

Embarassed beyound belief, I wanted to crawl out and never come back. But I felt obligated and somewhat curious to see what he had up his sleve. The match didn't last long. It was between him and a wrestler named MVP. From what I caught from various and vulgar comments, Jeff was settling a long and heated rivalry for his brother. It ended in a pinfall after Jeff springboarded from the top rope, flatening his opponent to the mat.

There were two matches after, and I waited for the crowd to die down before even attempting to get backstage. There was an upset after some giant known as Khali knocked out another very large man who could roll his eyes back into his head. Riot police were on site, plexi glass shields at the ready.

"Pass please." Said a very gruff man with sunglasses as I tried to get backstage. I flashed him the pass around my neck and he escorted me to the locker room. "Wait here for the group." he instructed and turned away. I didn't feel like correcting him, nor did I dare. But it wasn't long before this Rainbow-haired warrior entered with a red stained towel and fresh clothes.

"Oh my God!" I said, "Are you hurt?"

"Nah. Cheap hair dye.," he explained. "Ok, everything's all set. I had Matt buy you an outfit for the interview and the paperwork's done. All you have to do is show up and look pretty."

I starred at him, waiting for a more thorough explanation. When none was offered, I prompted him. "Exactly what interview. What did you do?"

Again, he smiled an almost Cheshire grin. "You need cash and a place to stay for awhile." He bent down and lowered his voice to a whisper. "And you pinned me last night. I got to thinking, put two and two together and got four. You're going to the suits for an interview. It'll keep you here for a few days at least until the diva contest."

"Diva contest? Ok hun, the only performing I do is bi-weekly karaoke." I crossed my arms.

"Its nothing like that. You'll see." He turned, and typically began to walk away. I grabbed his arm and gave him a quite evil look. But he just chuckled and kept going. I swore that next time I would staple his feet to the floor.

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A/N: Sorry for infrequent updates. I started a new job and I'm working night shifts. This chapter is pretty much how it went in the dream. What has he gotten Ava into? Will they ever have a full conversation? What color will his hair be next? WHERE'S MATT?

The plot bunnies are biting! Expect two more fics in the coming weeks featuring Matt Hardy and CM Punk!


	6. Chapter 6: The Suits

Disclaimer: I only own Ava

The night went by quickly. I refused a dinner Allen had brought to the room, but I did take a few swigs of the champagne. I slept well enough, and Allen had left before I awoke. I remembered the bag Jeff had handed me the night before and decided it was a good idea to change out of the clothes I'd been wearing for the past three days.

I rummaged in the bag an pulled out a pair of black jeans and a pink and black baby doll top. I was going to an interview in something like THIS? I reasoned either Matt had poor taste in clothing or Jeff never told him what it was for. I changed into it regardless and was amazed when I looked in the bathroom mirror. The outfit didn't look as slutty as I though it would - in fact it covered and enhanced all the right places. But I would have preferred something dressier.

Jeff had left a message with Allen to meet the "suits" at the arena in the conference area. I headed over around 10am. The room wasn't hard to find seeing as there was a group of security guarding the door. I flashed the pass again and gave my name. Apparently, I was expected.

I took a seat on the cold concrete and pulled out the sudoko book Allen had bought me. There's only so much TV you can watch in a day. I'd finished my fourth puzzle before I was called in. Behind a large wooden desk there were two men and one woman. I could only assume one was this Vince guy Allen had mentioned. I closed my book and plopped it down on the floor.

"Hello, my name is Ava." I hoped they'd respond likewise. Jeff was right, it was nice to have a name every once and awhile.

But of course they didn't. They didn't say two words. They just looked me over for a minute before the woman cleared her throat. "Turn around for us please." She asked. I complied. They nodded approvingly.

"You've got the look." the older man said. "But what about the moves?" He rose from behind the desk and walked over to me. "Ok, put me in a headlock."

I stared at him a moment, perplexed. "Um, ok. But will you do me one favor first?" He nodded. "Can I have your name?"

The other two gasped, slightly shocked. He just smiled. "You mean to tell me you come to this interview, trying for a place on the roster, and you don't know who Vincent Kennedy McMahon is?" I paused a moment, trying to find the right answer.

"In all due respect sir, I never knew a Mr. McMahon until now. In entire honesty, this wasn't my idea at all. You see -" I tried to explain, but he cut me off.

"Is this just a big joke? Jeff trying to pull one over on me, huh? Well, we'll see if he gets that title shot or not."

"Please, don't take this out on him. I haven't known him long. Actually, its only been a few days, but I think he was serious." I gulped, wondering if I should walk out or actually go through with this. "I'm actually looking forward to competing sir, if you'll give me that chance."

He seemed to approve. Taking a step closer he repeated his request. "Put me in a headlock." I looked at him, askew, wondering the best way to go about this. Finally, I decided to grab him by the shoulders and mildly administer a knee to the gut. We he had doubled over, I hooked his head in the crook of my elbow, moved behind him and pulled. After a few seconds, I released.

He massaged his neck lightly, looking at the floor. I glanced over and realized he was eying the sudoku book I'd tossed aside. "Hmm," he muttered. "At least you've got half a brain. That helps. As for the ring-side flair, I don't know." He returned to the desk, immediately consulting the others. I stood there a few minutes, trying to catch even a single word that was being said.

"Alright," he said, finally. "We think we could use you if you make it through the competition. There's some work that needs to be done, but you've got at least one wrestler in your corner - possibly literally. You're on tonight, don't be late. More importantly, don't screw up. You can go."

It took me a moment to actually take this in. "Thank you." I said, and walked out of the office. I needed to find Jeff. I had no idea what the hell I'd just done.


	7. Chapter 7: Pulling Strings

Disclaimer: Don't own anything. Vince does. Except for Ava.

But where the hell would I find the wrestler? If he was training I had no idea where, or how I would get into see him. So I headed back to the ship instead. Luckily, Jeff had been a few steps ahead. Allen's messaging machine was flashing a brilliant red.

I pressed play. "Hey, its Jeff. So, did you go? If so, what happened? Give me a call, unless you didn't go." He ended with a 9 digit number, which I assumed was his cell. I dialed the number and waited anxiously. He picked up on the third ring.

"Hello?" came a raspy voice, breathless.

"Uh, yeah. Jeff? Its Ava." I replied.

"Hey! What happened?"

"That's a damn good question." Frustrated, I sighed. "I accepted. Now what do I do."

There was a pause and then a long "Whoooooooop!" I couldn't help but chuckle through my nerves. "That's great! Look, I know this is probably nerve-wracking for you, but trust me on this one: You're going to be great. You've got me behind you and possibly Matt, if I can get ahold of him soon enough. I'll meet you before the show and your briefing, K? Alright, see you there."

Again, I had no chance to answer. I started to wonder when I could grab him for a whole fifteen minutes. All my questions went pretty much unanswered, and I wasn't ready for any of this. I plopped down on Allen's bed, wondering how to prepare for something I knew nothing about.

In the locker room, I waited a half hour for him. The show started in an hour and he still wasn't there. I started pacing, pausing only the punch the wall a few times. But he kept to his word, arriving with a red rose in hand.

"Yeah, I know this is supposed to come after the show, but you deserve it now." He handed me the flower with a childish grin on his face. "Ok." His tone became more business like. "From what I got, tonight's a sports challenge. Tomorrow though, I have no idea. Something involving the other wrestlers. Any questions?"

"Plenty. But I doubt you'll stick around long enough to answer many of them." To my annoyance, he chuckled again.

"You're right. I've got to get ready. But I promise you, I'll be there for your entrance." He winked and left - again.

I continued to pace again and bite at my nails. But I didn't have long to get out my anxiousness. Four girls entered, already chatting it up. These could only be the women who had properly applied. The ones who hadn't been thrown into this, but rather chose to do it. A blonde, probably close to 5'10" approached me and smiled the most vile smile anyone could posses. She turned to the other girls, which was apparently was a signal to laugh.

"So this is the last-minute wannabe." For show, she slammed her fist into her palm. "Look chica, this is our turf. You'll be out after tonight, so don't start making big plans. Consider this 'hello' and 'goodbye'." I had the feeling she wanted to continue (because I strongly wanted to retort), but the and Englishman in a gray suit seemed to hold everyone else's attention.

"Alright, the cat fight's over." He said, lying heavy emphasis on the 'H'. "After tonight, It will be the end of the road for two of you. But for the others, there will be a chance to score a place on the 'RAW' roster. Tonight's event will be a three-on-three volleyball match. Two women on each team, who will be joined by two superstars who deem a team worthy. Good luck to all of you." He gave a slight nod, and walked back towards the entrance ramp.

Apparently, we were the first match of the night. It wasn't long before the blonde appeared again, changed and full of fire. "Hey," He whispered. "Everything's good. Hang back before they say your name. I pulled a few strings. My mouth stood agape as a male announcer started calling out contestants names.

-

A/N: I had to write, I'm having such a shitty week. I brought the rose back into the story, I felt I had to. Though the story line behind it was sort of 'Beauty-and-the-Beast-esque." Apparently, I had to grow the rose for a year. Then it would bloom and I would marry. To Disney for me.

What's Jeff got planned now? How will Ava fare? Please review!


	8. Chapter 8: Not a Bikini Match

Disclaimer: Ava's mine. Anything else isn't.

The three other competitors' names were Rosa, Emily, and Trista. Each one of them were called in succession. Each had their own style, their own way of playing to the crowd. I'd never even thought I'd have to vy for the crowd's approval. I tried running various movements through my head, hoping I'd find something that would appeal to the crowd.

Yet again, Jeff was way ahead.

-

Jerry "The King" Lawler's POV

Much to my disappointment, they'd decided against having a bikini match. I took a swig out of my coffee mug while J.R. recited almost the entire history of Divas in the wrestling world. Regal took the microphone and began calling out the Diva hopefuls. I made the typical comments about their assets, but I really wasn't into it tonight.

Three women had entered, each one more intimidating then the next. Regal took the mic again, but was interrupted by Jeff's Hardy's typical entrance music.

"What does Hardy have to do with a Diva search?" I yelled.

Ava's POV

His bizarre dance began and I was fascinated at how the crowd reacted to his unexpected involvement. Like the night before, he touched the hand of each of his adoring fans. But this time he stopped - exactly at the spot he'd danced in front of me the night prior. He looked around and smacked his forehead, almost like he'd forgotten something. He ran back up the ramp and pulled me out by the hand.

I nearly froze as Jeff half-guided half-dragged me into the center of the arena. A large blue tarp covered the portion of the floor that usually held the ring. I thought 'What does this have to do with volleyball?" I hoped to find out soon. I was getting aggravated from all these sup rises.

He grabbed my hand and held it up, turning me around slowly so everyone got a good look. When he lowered it, he held it a moment longer and gave me a gentle squeeze. "Relax." he mouthed, turning so no one would see.

The Englishman, who I later learned was General Manager William Regal, began to explain the rules. "...and I suppose you'll all got the message," he said, turning to me and the other women. They all nodded and began stripping down into very skimpy bikinis. Their bodies were perfectly sculpted, nothing like my own. I felt a stone drop in my stomach as I fully realized how much more deserving these women were.

Of course, I was never notified. Later, Jeff would explain to me this was a ploy to make me the heel right off the start. The reason being was if I was eliminated early on, the crowd would have already hated me. If I went on and won it, I'd have the beginning of a character, and a chance at redeeming myself.

I hung my head, truly embarrassed. Not that I would have worn a bikini - but at least something that looked beach-worthy. "This match," Regal began "Is a water volleyball match! First team to five points will advance. Each team will joined by a superstar from the RAW roster, should he deem that team worthy."

One-by-One four wrestlers entered to a generic rock song. John Cena, Randy Orton, Triple H and Shawn Michaels. They stood by the pool, each looking at Jeff as they passed. Regal directed each women to their side of the ring. Come my turn, Jeff grabbed my hand much more, jumping into the pool and taking my down with him - clothes and all.

Each of the other male wrestlers looked at one another. To side with the other Diva hopefuls meant to side against Jeff. And in this industry, it could me a long and dragged out rivalry peppered with back-stage antics and sizzled over blood-filled matches.

Finally, it was Orton who jumped into the pool, joining Rosa and Trista's team. The ref (who unfairly stayed dry the entire match) blew the whistle. It was Rosa's served, and she slammed the ball with her fist. It flew a good distance before it hit the net.

The ball was thrown to my side, and I grabbed it instinctively. I'd played on my high school's varsity team, but never had I played it in the water. I threw it up and hit it into their deep court. No one called it, so no one made a move for it. One point, advantage us.

The play lasted a good twenty minutes until the score was 4-4. Jeff served, barely getting it over the net. Trista set the ball and Rosa spiked it over the net. I was there to return it, sending it just over the net in front of Randy. Almost clumsily, he tipped it up and over. And I was there for the spike - right into his face. The other's dove for the ball, but it had already his the water's surface. Our team had won.

Regal called our names as champions, adding for Rosa and Trista to pack their bags. It was now between Emily and myself.

"Tomorrow night," Regal beamed, "Emily and Ava will compete in a contest of my choosing. Which will be revealed minutes before the contest starts. The winner will be decided by you, the fans. Good luck to both of you."

Backstage, Emily approached me and gave me a hug. "I'm so nervous about tomorrow. But whoever wins..." she trailed off. I could nearly feel the fear in her voice. I hugged her back, wishing her luck. If I had to lose, at least it wouldn't be to a bitch like Rosa.

-

A/N: Pretty much how it happened in the dream - the pool just kinda appeared overnight. But, I can imagine in an industry that large stuff like that could be pulled off. But the part about Randy's face getting up close and personal with the ball- well, that's just something I'd like to do. Tee hee.

Please review!


	9. Chapter 9: Drifting Away

Disclaimer: All I own from this story is Ava (Oh, and the 20 I just won on a scratch ticket.)

WARNING: Ok, I wrote this at like 3 in the morning while hyped-up on 3 cups of coffee. So the end of this crosses the line slightly into a crack-fic. But I swear, it will all make sense in the next chapter.

I spent much of the following day recuperating, completely comfortable resigning to my almost certain defeat tomorrow night. It wasn't my screw-brained idea in the first place. My arms ached horribly, only having the strength to lift the remote level with the television.

I suppose luck was with me. The aches gradually died down and Allen was too busy preparing for the ship's departure to even bother with me. Apparently, three days after tonight's match the new RAW diva and a prevailing superstar would sail off for a week to enjoy the success of their matches. Which meant my stay here would soon reach its end.

Thoughts my family had of finding me and bringing me home, if there were any, were never acted upon. And any care I had of returning had completely vanished. I fancied myself a drifter now, a nomad if you will. I soon fell into fantasies of cities, large and small, that I would visit. After a few weeks of exploring, I'd move on again. But before I could completely envelop myself within these dreams, the phone shrieked in my ear.

A little more than cross, I answered. "What?". A short chuckle tickled my ear, and I knew it wasn't Allen.

"Still sore from last night's match? You'll get used to it. But hey, a little birdie told me-"

"I'm gonna tell you exactly where you can stick that little birdie." Every bit of frustration and unvented anger unleashed itself. "Look, I'm sick of this. I'm NOT a wrestler or a diva. I've got my own plans now, Jeff. And none of them involve your sport, your industry - none of them involve you!" I slammed the phone down on its receiver and smiled at the sinister warmth of self-satisfaction.

With the slightest bit of difficulty I managed a small catnap. My dreams were a cross between country sides view from the backseat of a Greyhound bus and arenas packed with cheering fans. I had barely wiped the sleep from my eyes when there was a knock at the door.

I expected Allen to be there in his grease-soaked clothes, but instead a thick built man dressed in a long purple pimp-coat with a matching fedora hat stood in the doorway. I quickly checked my mental calendar to verify that Halloween was still in October.

"Um, are you lost?" I asked, studying his face.

"Are you Ava?" he asked, keeping his composure better than I could hope to.

"Yeah. Oh wait! Let me guess - this has something to do with a little rainbow-haired freak and I'm about to be wrangled into yet another one of his hair-brained schemes, right? And sadly, probably after a few drinks, you lost a bet and had to play a part in it as well. Here Bubo." I grabbed the twenty out of my wallet and held it out to the make-shift pimp. "This is for your trouble. Show yourself out." I made to shut the door in his face, but he had wedged his boot underneath it.

I waited for a reaction, but he simply grinned through his honey-brown eyes. He stroked his chin, slightly nodding. "You really are a character. I am here because of Jeff, but I didn't loose a bet. He called in a long-owed favor. He told me you'd be a bit of a spit-fire as well as - and I quote - 'Just get her here so I can reason with her.' So, I'm apologizing before hand."

Before could get out an obvious: "For what?" I was swept up into a fireman's carry. "If you were wondering," he said, not even slightly winded, "I'm Matt. Jeff's brother." I had to hand it to them; the Hardy's sure had a way of introducing themselves.

A/N: Nothing of this is from the dream. I just ad-libed a bit. The next chapter follows the dream with just a slight modification.


	10. Chapter 10: Big Pimpin'

Disclaimer: I don't own Jeff, Matt or anything from the WWE. I don't even own the twenty I won from The scratch ticket anymore.

Matt loaded me into the passenger seat of an already running rented pick-up truck He switched off the radio and rolled up the windows. I glared at him with my best attempt of malice, be he stared me down. The Hardys were unbreakable, of this I was sure.

When he was certain I wouldn't make anymore outlandish comments or make a run for it he pulled the gear into drive. "Jeff wanted to let you know he found out just what kind of match Regal has in mind." He stopped momentarily to check the intersection onto the road. "Basically, Regal's got it into his head that you're not the ballsy kind of girl who would wrestle another woman in lingere. And I have to agree with him on the last part. But - and I'm speaking from experience now - you sure do have a big set of cahones." He took a left into the arena's parking lot. "He's planning a strip-tease contest. You and the other girl are going to give wrestlers of his choosing a lap dance. Oh, put your jaw back in place. Stuff like this happens all the time. He's chosen Adam - sorry, Edge to be your opponent's partner. And he certainly knows how to express his own sexual satisfaction." I noted a bit of bitterness in his voice, but decided not to bring it up. "We have no idea who he's chosen for you, but we prepared as best we could."

I wanted to know just how they'd prepared, but if there was one thing I learned about working with the Hardy's it was not to ask questions and just roll with it. After a small hassle with security, he pulled into a parking spot and we entered through the back of the arena and into the locker rooms. Jeff was there to great his brother in a matching green pimp ensemble. In his hand he held a black plastic bag, the contents which I feared was my outfit for the evening.

"Cold feet?" he asked almost cheerfully as I entered. I hadn't managed to forgive him quite yet, so I gave an indifferent shrug. "Well, you've got about twenty minutes before the contest starts. Man, you should have heard Regal." he turned to his brother now. " He's been trashing her name left and right." he held out the bag to me and motioned to my left. "Go and change. And don't worry," he gave a slight wink. "It's mother-approved"

He waited for me outside, picking at the flaking polish on his nails. When I had changed, he motioned for me to do a little spin. I gave a grunt of frustration, but didn't refuse. I'd buried myself this deep already...

The black miniskirt flared a bit at the end, and the black-and-green mess top scream "Rave!" a little too much for my liking. But I adored the arm-bands that completely matched his, save for the corset lacings on the side. However, I doubted I could even make it down the ramp in the damn hooker-boots.

"Woo! Smokin'" He made a gun with his fingers and pretended to blow across its barrel.

We watched Emily's performance with Edge on one of the monitors backstage. All the trepidation and anxiety I'd seen from her the night before seemed to melt as soon as the music started. Edge seemed to be into his freebie, but it was hard to keep focus on him while Regal expressed his interest as well. She finished it off by gently placing a kiss on Edge's lips, much to not only my dismay, but that of a woman in a wheelchair. This was going to be a tough act to follow.

I looked over to Matt, hoping he could offer a few comforting words. But he held a microphone in his hand and a childish grin on his face. "Bow-chica-wow-wow!" His call echoed through the arena's sound system.

We entered to a modified version of Jeff's song, a version I though more appropriate for a low-budget porno. The brother's crisscrossed each other to greet the fans on either side of the ramp. I was content lagging behind until they both grabbed me. Again, I was practically dragged to ringside.

I ducked under the ropes as they ran for each of the corners to flash their trademarks. I took this time to check the faces of fans. There were many who cheered for me (or was it the Hardys?), but many more who looked like they had no idea what to make of me. When the brother's were done, Jeff wrapped his arm around my waist almost protectively. It only lasted a second before Matt began cat calling again and making hourglasses with his hands. They smiled at each other, enjoying their playtime. I hoped to God it was one of them I would dance for. They at least knew how to play a crowd.

"So what do you think, Regal?" Matt said into his mic. "Isn't see one hot piece of -"

"This is the future of Diva's in RAW!" Jeff interrupted, staring Regal directly between the eyes.

Regal was unamused. "She will have to prove her appeal," he began. "to both the crowd and a rock of a man. Or should I say,...a bulldozer..." He backed off to the side of the ring. "Her performance will be for: You-Manga!"

A heavily tattooed and sweaty Samoan made his entrance. It certainly seemed he'd bulldozed his way through many pints of Haagan Das and pudding pops. This was the freak I was supposed to...well, get freaky with? No, I'd take a day in hell before I'd perform for THAT.

Jeff seemed to read my thoughts. He looked at me while the rest of the crowd (and thankfully the cameras) focused on that monster. His eyes poured genuine sympathy, and yet, at the same time, encouragement. For the first time I could feel his passion for this life, and I soon captured it for my own. The Samoan squatted down on the chair and crossed his meaty arms. He certainly showed little sign of emotion, unless you count insanity.

A new song began, something with a hip-hop beat. I tossed my hair back sensually and bowed my head. When I raised my eyes to his, I gently bit my forefinger suggestively. For someone with little practice at something like this, I sure as hell wasn't going to let it show.

I moved my arms down my sides and then back above my head. I straddled him, while wishing desperately I had a towel to make this a bit more comfortable on my part. I put my arms around his neck, which was equally as disgusting as the rest of him. I threw my head back only to see two Hardy brother's start circling us. They pulled out fistfuls of fake paper money and began showering it over me. Jeff was more generous with his fake cash and was the first to run out. Thinking on his feet, he cornered his fingers and began taking "snapshots" of me.

But the baboon's face never changed. I knew this had to be him playing in character, but he was damn convincing. I sighed, finally putting my full weight on his lap. The music ended and I quickly stood. In doing so, I managed to somehow catch my ankle on the leg of the steel chair. I stumbled, but didn't fall.

Immediately, it started to burn. I knew I'd sprained it pretty good this time. Acting on instinct, I bent down and began to massage it, praying my fingers were made of ice.

I never saw it, but the camera's did. The monster's face immediately changed and his tongue hung out of his mouth. He lunged at me and grabbed me into a perverted bear hug at the waist. I couldn't get up, and he kept me bending. His hot breath panting, I felt his chest expand and fall. The crowd loved it. There were cat calls and lewd movements being made all across the ring. Even Regal couldn't deny it, I was the undisputed champion and the new Diva.

Enraged, Regal grabbed Jeff by the hair and spun him round. "Listen you little twirp!" he yelled, spraying spit across the microphone cover. "You're going to pay for your little shinanigans. You've ruined the entire contest. And tonight..." he paused and I instantly felt the weight of the audience's anxious silence. "It will be you and me in the ring. Fighting for a spot on that ship with that little girlfriend of yours. And there will be no interference."

A/N: Ok, I lied. I really did deviate from the dream a bit. There was a lap-dance contest, but Matt was partnered with me. Jeff just escorted me. But I thought this was much better.


End file.
